Tuesday, August 31, 2010

Monday, August 30, 2010

A continuation of the selection fromExit to Eden, by Anne Rampling. Read the first part here.

"I'm a real fast learner," I said. I turned my head away from her. What the hell was I trying to do? It was bad enough. But I couldn't stand it, the sight of her, the tight vest and the plunging neck of her blouse.

"I hope so," she laughed softly. "I'm going to whip the hell out of you if you're not." And her lips touched me again, feeding on my neck. "What is this? All flustered already? You come against the bed while I'm whipping you and what do you think I'll do to you? Take a guess."

I didn't dare say anything.

"Now, while I'm punishing you," she said just as gently, smoothing the hair back from my forehead, "you're going to answer me properly and deferentially every time I address you, and you will control your powerful proud impulses, no matter what the provocation, you understand?"

"Yes, Madam," I said. I turned over and strained forward and kissed her before she could get away. She pulled in again, softening all over, and dropping down on her knees, kissed me, that same scorching current running through it, and the kiss almost touched off the bomb.

"Lisa," I whispered. I didn't even know why.

And she stayed still, very close, looking at me. And there was some instantaneous sense of why this was so horrific, that always before they'd been wearing masks in my imagination, the women and men who whipped me, or subjugated me... But she wasn't wearing a mask. The fantasy wasn't cloaking her. "I'm scared to death of you," I whispered. I could hear the amazement in my own voice. I was speaking so low I wondered if she could hear me. "I mean I... this is difficult, it's..."

"Good," she said. She drew back slowly. "Are you ready to be whipped?"

I made a little sigh and nodded.

"You have to do better than that."

"Yes, Madam."

She shook her head. She was studying me. I licked my lips a little, looking at her mouth. She was frowning slightly, her lashes a dark fringe as she looked down and then back at me. "I like the way you say Lisa," she said, thoughtfully, as if she was considering. "Let's change it to 'Yes, Lisa.'"

"Yes, Lisa." I was trembling.

"Good boy."

She disappeared to the foot of the bed. And when she started, she swung the strap as hard as one of the male handlers. And there was an efficiency to the way she whipped, making every lash count.

She went to work. It was like an examination, the way she spread the blows, and the pain built slowly, luxuriously, just the way the pleasure had... and I could feel myself breaking down, a slow exhilaration building under the pain, all the defenses weakening that would have been solid against her, had she gone at it more brutally, swiftly, with more noise.

Then the thrashing started in earnest.

I tensed my muscles, rising off the sheet. I couldn't keep quiet. I tried holding out as I always do, unwilling to let go, but it was no good. My body was cooking all over and I couldn't stand it any longer, the dazzling sting of the strap seeking out all the little places it had neglected, the excitement surging even as I tried to hold back, the strap teasing the big welts again. There came that priceless moment--a moment that doesn't always come--when I knew I had no control anymore, and I felt everything, everything, at the same time.

"You know you belong to me," she said.

"Yes, Lisa," I answered naturally, spontaneously.

"And you are here to please me."

"Yes, Lisa."

"And there will be no more impertinence."

"No, Lisa."

"And there will be no repeat of the impertinence I heard from you this afternoon."

"No, Lisa."

Finally I was moaning outright, and I couldn't pretend I wasn't. I kept my teeth shut even when I answered her... I had things to say to her that they hadn't made words for. But I didn't dare say anything except the proper answers, listening through the rain of blows to each question. I was ready for anything she would demand.

Finally she stopped. My skin was sizzling, every welt and mark steaming as she undid the cuffs with her maddening, delicate and quick little fingers and told me to get up.

I climbed off the bed drunkenly and I fell down on my knees in front of her, exhausted as if I'd been running for miles. My muscles hurt from the clenching and unclenching all through the whipping, and I wanted to take her in my arms so badly that I pressed my head to the floor. I was weakened with this feeling for her, drugged... I didn't care anymore about anything in the world, really, except her... The soreness and desire came in flashes.

"It was a good whipping, wasn't it?" She asked.

"Yes, Lisa," I nodded, letting out a little laugh in spite of myself. If you only knew--"Very good"--that I want to devour you. That I... what?

"Have you had better?" she asked. She nudged my cheek with the belt so that I looked up... "I would like to know."

"Longer and louder," I murmured. I knew I was smiling at her, almost ironically. "And harder, but not better."

Sunday, August 29, 2010

This picture, from a scanned postcard by Anne Taintor, shows a lively group of elegantly dressed people having a fun time. Here's how you interpreted the picture:Michael: "I enjoy being at these little soirees of Fortuna's. I had no idea that so many young men liked having their bottoms birched by society women."

Prefectdt: "I enjoy being entertained by all these potential slaves. What time does the auction start?"

Ronnie: "I enjoy being dressed up for these little get-togethers but I hate Clarissa for making me choose who should spank me."

Bacall: "I enjoy wondering if any of these men are man enough to spank me."SixoftheBest: "If any one of you gentlemen can tell us ladies, what type of knickers we are wearing, we will allow you to take them down, and spank us." Barely Pink: "I enjoy being spanked amongst strangers, so forgive me if I don't ask your names. The order will be: Constance, then me, then Paige. And then me again."

Red: "I enjoy being at a spanking party like this one. It will be so much fun as we play musical chairs, where you men get to gently bend over the closest lap when the music stops. The game doesn't start again until each one of you is beating a merry tune with your feet dancing on the carpet..."Hermione: "I enjoy being ready for a spanking at any time, so I'm not wearing panties."

Saturday, August 28, 2010

Here's an interesting social gathering. The woman on the right seems to be entertaining the two gentlemen with some titillating conversation. What do you think she enjoys? Does the lady in the middle have anything to add? What about the blond wearing the pink dress, sitting provocatively on the sofa? Why have these people come together?

Please leave your suggested caption as a comment, and I will post all submitted captions tomorrow. Let your imagination soar!

Friday, August 27, 2010

I was at the veterinarian's office recently, and overheard this conversation.

A woman was speaking to the receptionist, and from what I heard, she was a new client, and the conversation was about transferring her records from her former clinic. The receptionist asked, "May I call and ask them to fax Spanky's file?"

Spanky? What kind of animal was Spanky, I wondered, since she didn't have an animal with her. But more to the point, who would choose to name their cat, dog, ferret or budgie Spanky? Would a spankophile do such a thing with that emotionally-charged word? Or is it only vanillas who would bestow "that word" upon their best friend.

Wednesday, August 25, 2010

I'm a great fan of traditional folksongs, and one of the things I especially like is the use of nonsense words that are frequently added to the songs. I don't know why they are there, but I do know that the word whack is frequently one of those words.

What is there about that word? It implies a good, solid smack to a bare bottom.

And when you say or especially when you sing it, there's a nice, full, whooshy sound that happens.

So, here are excerpts from a few of my favourite whacking songs. I'm sure there are many more out there.

As I was a-walkin' 'round Kilgary Mountain
I met with Captain Pepper as his money he was countin'
First I drew me pistol, and then I drew me rapier
Sayin', "Stand and deliver, for I am the bold deceiver."

As I rode down to Galway town to seek for recreation
On the seventeenth of August me mind being elevated
There were multitudes assembled with their tickets at the station
Me eyes began to dazzle and I'm goin' to see the races.

Refrain:
With your whack-fa-the-da-for-the-diddle-ee-iddle-day.

The Newburgh Jail

Come listen, kind friends, and I'll sing you a song,
It's only a short one, it won't keep you long.

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

Ron has never been a fan of letting the anticipation build prior to a spanking. In fact, he often gives me a preliminary swat on the bottom as I am getting into position. The other day, we were engaged in a quick stress reliever, and Ron was using the wooden shoehorn to good effect. After a brief pause for some rubbing to reduce the sting, he stopped and I braced myself for the next round of smacks.

Nothing.

I waited.

Finally, I heard and felt the crack as he resumed. I also heard a chuckle from behind me. Ron was messing with my mind, but I laughed too.

After a few minutes, another pause, and again, while I awaited the impact, nothing. Silence. I turned around and looked to see what was up.

Ron laughed again. This was different indeed!

I observed, after he had swung into action once more, "You've been reading the instruction manual." Once I had left a copy of The Compleat Spanker out in plain sight, hoping Ron might read it and pick up a few pointers.

Monday, August 23, 2010

If you've seen the movie version of Exit to Eden, but haven't read the book, I think you'll be pleasantly surprised by this excerpt. The movie was a ridiculously watered-down, bastardized version of the novel by Anne Rampling (also known as Anne Rice and A. N. Roquelaure).

Elliott has recently arrived at "The Club", an island resort with a difference. He has agreed to spend two years as a slave, but immediately drew attention to himself by being flippant and arrogant. He has been singled out for special attention by Lisa, the creator and owner of the resort. After some tumultuous erotic frolicking in Lisa's private quarters, Elliott sleeps.

When I woke up, it was dark in the room, and she was saying my name. The little danger alarm went off in my head. If she sent me off now, goddamn it, I'd go mad.

There was one distant lamp on the dresser, throwing a yellow light on the hard, angular features of the sculptures and masks, and gleaming on the brass of the bed. And I was lying flat on the smooth cotton sheets, the spreads and pillows gone, and the curtains had been tied back. It was the familiar feel of leather closing around my left wrist tjat brought me fully around. She had already tightened the buclke and now, bending over me, her knees against me, she buckled the cuff at the right.

She's going to whip me,I thought. She's not through with me. Quick simmer of excitement. And I really asked for it, didn't I, saying those things, so it's going to be hard. And she'd do it if I didn't ask for it. Did I think that fucking her would stop her? Scared. Slow boil.

I gave a tug to the traps just to test the strength, and realized I couldn't possibly pull loose. My left foot was quickly manacled to the bedpost. And then the right. All this had happened before, it wasn't the worst. In fact, it was the most comfortable kind of whipping. So why the panic inside? Because it was she? Because never before had I had one of them who tormented me, not the way I'd had her. Beautiful! And all I could think about, in spite of this, was a line out of a bad Romans and Christians movie, where some slave says to the decadent patrician master, "Whip me but don't send me away."

I twisted, pulled at the straps, but I didn't even strain the heavy brass frame.

And she was watching me, standing on my right.

Her back was to the lamp. Her skin looked almost incandescent in the shadows, as if the heat in her had alchemized into light.

I thought of her under me again, her toughness and her softness, and that she was going to whip me, and the boil was rolling. I wanted to say something to her suddenly, pierce the tension. But I didn't dare. She had a black leather strap in her hand and this was going to be bad. And why Would she care if I did say something to her? What did I want to say?

She was dressed all in black now the way all the trainers dress, except for the lace blouse. Piquant, she looked, chic, a tight little leather vest and skirt snug around her body, her high-heeled boots laced to her knees. If I'd seen her sitting in a sidewalk cafe looking like that I would have come in my pants.

She moved towards me, holding the strap at her right side.

Now I pay for it, not just for the smart cracks, but having her. That's it, isn't it? I almost cringed. After all, the whipping never feels good. No matter how much you want it or love it, it hurts. And she'd know how to do it; she was the boss.

She came closer. She bent over, the frills of her blouse brushing against my shoulder, and she kissed my cheek. Perfume and silken hair. I shifted against the sheet, thinking I can't come like a school kid from her kissing me, that's nuts.

"You're a smart aleck, aren't you?" She said in a low, almost loving voice. "You've got a real smart mouth. And you're not under my command or under your own."

I almost said, Yes, I am, really, I am. I'll kiss your feet if you let me go, but I didn't say anything at all.

She kissed me again, bringing the tiny hairs up all over my body because it was so maddeningly light. Just a taste of her mouth. Whiff of her perfume again. "We're going to learn a few lessons," she said, "in how a slave talks and answers at The Club."

Sunday, August 22, 2010

Prefectdt - They were discussing what measures she should take about the god awful wallpaper he had put on the walls, whilst she had been staying with mother.

SixoftheBest- Her mother and father are coming over for lunch, and I promised them a hot rump steak, and I mean to deliver it fully cooked and painfully blushing red.

I am also smiling because while my in-laws are here, my father-in-law has given me permission to take my mother-in-law's knickers down, and wallop her bare bottom blushing red. Because it's her birthday. And I plan to give her 40 whacks with my hand.

Ronnie - They were both so happy that in the end they didn't have to call in the fire brigade to get Geoff out of the bondage ropes.Bacall - They were glowing with contentment after their mutual paddling session.

Poppy - They were going to start the spanking as soon as the migraine brought on by the wallpaper stopped.

They were both very proud of their handiwork as they observed the girl they had left bent over the table with her knickers around her ankles.

Hermione - They were enjoying the double warm glow from the fireplace and from her bottom.

Friday, August 20, 2010

Ron was complaining recently about a sore hand. Since his hands are pretty important to our spanking enjoyment, I was concerned. It seems he had picked up some sort of irritation, and his hand burned and tingled for a few days before it felt better.

When this happened a second time, and he realized it had happened right after weeding, he headed for the internet and learned that he had come into contact with stinging nettles.

I've heard and read a lot about stinging nettles and the role they sometimes play in spankings. I was undecided about what to do but made my mind up yesterday. While pulling weeds out of the edge of the vegetable bed, I suddenly felt a searing heat on my left palm. Looking down at what I had extracted from the ground, I knew at once what it was. My hand burned and stung, just the way my bottom would if I explained to Ron what other use these plants had.

I plan to put on some heavy gloves and do some thorough weeding later today.

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

A recent article in a daily Canadian newspaper said that women like it when men "talk dirty" to them during intimate activities, and that some men try, but don't do it very well. What I found remarkable was the frequency of statements that I perceived to be refreshingly non-vanilla.

The author did a little survey of friends and found that women do like to hear naughty words, but rarely did. One woman said that once she found a man who used them "the kinky dialogue that ensued made her feel more sexually confident than ever."

"Pleasure begins in the brain and... [talking dirty] operates within the realm of fantasy, and fantasy is the match to the fire."

Part of talking dirty can involve theatrically using the language of degradation. Men raised by feminists may have a problem with this, but there shouldn't be one "if it's what a woman wants to hear." A conversation about pornography may turn to "the idea of a woman being tied up or spoken to in a humiliating fashion should not be arousing, and yet there are women who are turned on by that... It's sometimes the woman who wants to be playfully humiliated who takes the risk in asking."

I especially like the way the article ends.

"The key word in role play is play...And what if you try to play and your girlfriend tells you you're bad at it? Well, then, maybe you have the wrong playmate. Or you could ask her if she needs to be punished for that."

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

Every day of the year, vigilant border personnel scrutinize books, leaflets, comics, magazines, DVDs, CDs and other material for objectionable content, then decide if it may or may not enter Canada. Last year, of the 384 items stopped for review, 167 were deemed admissible to the country and 217 were barred from entry.

The newspaper story that provided this information included a small sample of items allowed in and those that were banned.

I was pleased to see that the list of examined items permitted to enter Canada included a DVD called Spanking 101. It probably had artistic merit.

Monday, August 16, 2010

While dusting the top shelf recently, I discovered a long-forgotten little paperback nestled between two larger volumes. Miss Rattan's Lesson, by Yolanda Celbridge, is a series of loosely-connected adventures of Thomas Peake. After receiving a sound caning from Miss Rattan at age 18, he develops a taste for disciplining naughty female bottoms, and does so repeatedly and thoroughly while attempting to study at University. The story is set in the Roaring Twenties.

In today's selection, Peake has been told by Edwina, one of his enthusiastic spanking partners, that he would be perfect playing one of the leading roles in a new play. He arrives at the theatre just as a rehearsal is ending. The director is annoyed by his unexpected presence.

He pronounced "director" with sufficient reverence to thaw her initial irritation. The woman nodded her assent. She was a handsome female, full-figured in a sombre grey shirt and grey woollen skirt which did not quite cover her knees; sensible shoes and dark blue stockings. Her hair was knotted in a white kerchief.

"Oh," she said, "you must be the young man Edwina spoke of -- I take it you have acted before?"

"Not exactly," said Peake.

"Meaning no," said Juliet Haze. "Why can men never speak directly? Well, Edwina is a flibbertigibbet, and not quite serious -- she knows nothing of the plays of Ibsen or Shaw -- but she is a good judge of character."

Peake said that Edwina had explained very little.

"I am directing the lost play of Aristophanes, The Drudges," she explained.

Peake said he was unfamiliar with the work.

"That is because it is lost", she said, clutching her brow. "I discovered it myself, in the Bodleian Library... The play concerns a slave uprising in Sparta. The men are away at war, leaving their womenfolk as mistresses of the city. The female slaves, tired of constant punishment for their misdemeanours, revolt, and subject their erstwhile mistresses to the same humiliations as they themselves endured. But the trick is, when the men come back and liberate the women, they find that they do not want to be liberated. They like being freed of responsibility having the noble toil of the drudge, and it must be said, frequent spankings and, sort of, whippings."

"You can't really have sort of whippings, Juliet," said Peake. "Either they are whippings or they are not."

"Well yes, whippings then. That is where you come in, as Phryne the slave mistress. You see, you don't have many lines, but in a way you are the lynchpin of the whole thing; you administer punishments impartially. Only mimed, of course, for the stage, but mimed realistically. The modern theatre must be realistic above all things."

They talk some more over lunch at a nearby restaurant. When they return to the theatre, everyone else has departed.

At the deserted hall, she carefully closed the door. Peake asked for a script, assuming he would have to read some lines.

"The script is not important at this stage. Your lines are mostly simple commands, to strip or bend over for punishment. I must audition you for what happens afterwards."

"You mean miming a spanking?"

"Not strictly mime. The spanking must be just hard enough to make a convincing and realistic noise. I am to play a token role, as a female slave, therefore you will attend to my bottom, please, Mr. Peake. Are you shocked?"

Peake gravely shook his head, and said that realism was essential to art.

"Perhaps you are not as bourgeois as I thought," said Juliet with approval. "You had better take me over your knee, I suppose. There are twenty-three females to be spanked in this play, Mr. Peake, and you shall have the lion's share of the spanking. I wish to be sure of your stamina."

The stage set represented Phryne's drawing room, where much of the action took place. There was a sofa and armchair, a table and various fans and tropical accoutrements. Juliet ordered Peake to sit on the sofa.

"Right!" said Juliet. "I shall bend over your knee -- you must hold me down, for I shall pretend to wriggle a lot -- and you must give me a spanking. Not hard enough to hurt, of course, but hard enough to make a good cracking noise. Lucinda should be here, to stand at the back and judge -- oh, where is she? Bother, we shall just start without her, to get me -- to get you accustomed to things."

She lay down rather gingerly across Peake's thigh, then allowed the weight of her body to press fully on him, totally relaxing her muscles in a position of complete helplessness. She lifted her skirts, revealing a pair of very high white panties and a garter belt of lace which was surprisingly frilly. Peake lifted his arm.

"Haven't you forgotten something?" she said. "Spankings are given on the bare, aren't they? I'm rather new to this."

Her voice dropped to a murmur as she said this, and had the resonance of untruth. Peake pulled her panties down in a swift motion, to reveal two full round fesses, taut and already clenched in expectation of his blows. The panties had become wedged at her stocking tops, and she said he should undo her straps and roll the panties down to her ankes, for realism. He did so, and she murmured that he should unroll her stockings too, as it would look more humiliating. He took his time at this task, rolling the sheer silk over long, smooth legs whose tender, pale skin was just as silky.

He began to spank her bare bottom, laying quite delicate strokes on the skin, and at each slap she trembled energetically. After a while, she said he was not doing it hard enough. For realism, he must hurt her a little bit, must feel angry at her, and then she would feel angry too, and her squirms and cries would be most realistic.

"Imagine that I've delivered some terrible insult," she said. "That I've said -- what is it you say to men? -- that you've got a tiny dangler. Yes! You've got a little tiny dangler, Mr. Peake."

Peake laughed and said this would scarcely be applicable to the character he was playing, the female Mistress Phryne.

"Oh, you confuse me. Well, your master has a tiny dangler! So there!"

Peake began to spank her bare fesses with force. Now her wriggles came in earnest, and a delicate pink suffused her bum-flesh, her cries of "Oh!" And "Ouch!" And "Steady on!" While not particularly theatrical, did not seem feigned either. Peake asked mildly if he was hurting her, but as he did so began to spank even harder.

"You know you are! I don't like it one bit! Edwina was right, you are a brute. But it is important to -- Oh! Oh! Oh! -- to have realism. God that smarts, sir. You are cruel, do you know? I bet you have spanked many girls before. Ouch! Oh! My bare bum! You horrid man!"

She was gasping for breath now, her bare bottom a squirming mass of mottled crimson, and Peake had to hold her firmly to keep her on his knee. His hand began to spank her below her buttocks, on the tender skin of her thighs, and her legs thrashed. Now she greeted each spank with a shrill yelp, interspersed with sobs, and her whole body was trembling as his blows rained on her buttocks.

"Don't stop," she panted. "Ah! Aaah! God, my bum is on fire! I've never had such pain. I feel this is my finest performance. There will be headlines in the Daily Herald. Such realism!"

Sunday, August 15, 2010

Nobody guessed correctly this time. I admit if I had been playing this game, I never would have guessed that the mystery implement is a pizza cutter. Click on the photo to enlarge it and read the instructions.

Thanks, everyone, for your creative guesses. We'll play again next month, with a completely different - but equally ouchy - mystery implement.

Saturday, August 14, 2010

It's time for another lightning round of Guess the Implement. I was inspired by this handy little wooden pervertable that was featured at one of the booths at a recent craft show. It's handmade in Canada.

What do you suppose it's for? Besides putting someone on the hot seat, that is. Submit your guesses, and I will reveal the answer tomorrow.

Friday, August 13, 2010

If you can't get enough of spanking pictures, stories and blogs and need to have more, more, more, then the Spanking Art Wiki is the place for you. Besides pictures and stories, there are little-known facts, an image of the month, a list of recent changes, and hundreds and hundreds of pages about spanking.

The part of the wiki that I am most interested in is the Spanking Blog Wiki. All known spanking bloggers, both past and present, are recorded there. Bonnie keeps it up to date as new blogs come to her attention, and she writes a brief, informative and personalized description of each blog. I give her a hand with the more mundane tasks, but sometimes she has to make some... er, adjustments.

Luckily, this doesn't happen too often!

No blogs are ever removed from the wiki. Here's the place to come if you wonder whatever became of a favourite blog.

Do drop in sometime when you have an hour or two to spare. It's time well wasted!